


Remarkable Boy

by hannigramcracker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Hannibal, I am going right to hell, I am so sorry about this, M/M, Necrophilia, Please avert your eyes, Rape, Strangulation, Top Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/pseuds/hannigramcracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kiss you again, dear boy? You hardly need to ask.”</p>
<p>Hannibal bent his neck and encased Will yet again, dipping his tongue into the sweet and metallic heat of Will’s mouth. He kissed with force, a hand still resting against Will’s neck, pinning his back to the wall, preventing him from moving or even thinking of getting away. Will did not kiss back of his own accord, but that was no matter, Hannibal merely chased his tongue around as Will tried to avoid contact. Hannibal parted from Will as he pushed away, trying this time to use his feet as well. Will met his eyes for a moment, and the clarity behind the storm in them was startling. </p>
<p>“No. I said kill me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remarkable Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please pay attention to the tags. This one really kind of got away from me. It all stemmed from a dream I had involving some of the dialogue and I took it somewhere awful. Some kind of AU set in the middle of season two.

_I never meant to fuck you, but you're pretty when you're mine. - Pretty When You Cry, Vast._

Breathing in deeply, Hannibal looked at the viscera surrounding them. He craned his head back to allow the scent of newly spilled, not yet dried blood to fill his nose. Eyes closed, he dragged a warm palm down his face, revelling in the endorphins that flooded his veins immediately after a kill. The chemicals in his bloodstream were only heightened by the slight smell in the air that accompanied that of the blood and freshly torn skin. A smell of the woods, of pine needles and soft dirt, of dogs and the ever lingering twinge of inexpensive aftershave.

_Will Graham_

Hannibal opened his eyes and let them travel over the crimson pools and smudges and entrails draped across severed and cracked bones. Hannibal could still hear each and every break and shatter echoing off the walls of his mind. It was music to his ears; a perfect percussion section backing the rest of his orchestra. Finally, he settled his gaze on the only other living body in the room, kneeling and shaking with his head in his hands, blood sticking into the brown curls and making them clump and tangle together, weighted down with red regret. Hannibal could smell the remorse on him as well.

He crossed the room, careful to stop over the perfectly placed tableau: two men made to resemble stags with the help of their cracked and removed ribcages, complete with their own hearts hanging from their broken open lips by the aortas sunk into their teeth long after their death. The rib bones were tied to their skulls using their hair and bits of fishing line, tied up perfectly thanks to Will. Hannibal had been proud to watch him pick the size and shape best for the antlers and set him to work. He knew that Will would come back to himself sooner or later and realize what he was doing, but he had hoped that Will would have a chance to finish his handiwork before he snapped out of it.  
Hannibal had been observing Will, closely, since his release from prison. Since he had known he _was_ sick. Hannibal wanted to show him that being sick might not be the worst thing. Will sometimes woke in the night blind to himself and his surroundings. Hannibal had seen him clawing at himself and trying to crawl out of his skin, shouting into the dark heat of the night. He had been watching these breakdowns happen with surprising frequency, monitering them from afar. Will became increasingly… _open_ to suggestions when he was in the throes of one of these fits. Hannibal had guided him through braising and cooking the lung of a particularly noisy librarian in his sleep one night, whispering sinful words of seduction and violence the whole time. Will had woken that morning, clearly disoriented but saying nothing until dinner was served - excusing himself from the table without much tact to vomit when he was told what was being served.

Hannibal knew he had not pulled the wool over Will’s eyes entirely, so to speak. He knew Will was merely a wolf in lamb’s clothing, keeping his silence and trying to get himself an advantage on Hannibal, though that was going to be nearly impossible. Especially now. Now, with his prints all over this crime scene, his footprints in the blood, and the blood on his coat.

Will had had another episode tonight. He had brought Will out of the house while he was dissociating. Will had watched him kill the first victim, witnessed him tearing into the flesh, ripping the ribcage piece by piece. He had learned quickly, and Hannibal was impressed. Will had nodded, knowing what he needed to do and started to work almost immediately on the second man in the room. Hannibal was sure he had heard Will laughing to himself quietly as the man struggled, mimicking his cries, shushing his struggles. Heat had pooled in Hannibal’s stomach when he heard the unmistakable sounds of Will grunting and groaning as he worked - in effort, in _pleasure_ , Hannibal was sure.  
And that heat had yet to dissipate entirely. In fact, the desire nearly curled his toes seeing Will covered in the innards of these men. Dripping red, pooling in blood that sank into the cracks of the wood floor and brought out the subtle highlights in the cherry wood. Hannibal wondered if Will would still be pliant with his suggestions still, even after all of this, even though he was sure that Will was nearing the final stages of his episode.

Coming up from behind, Hannibal carefully dragged a hand through a puddle of blood that was still the slightest bit warm and placed his other hand on Will’s shoulder. Will turned, a shocked look in his eyes, though they still looked foggy, glassed over and confused. _Good._ Using the hand that now dripped with blood, Hannibal reached out for Will’s chin, leaving startling red staining pale porcelain skin. The shade was becoming on Will, astonishingly so. Hannibal dragged his thumb over Will’s lips, painting them crimson as well. Will’s tongue flicked out to taste copper of it’s own accord, and seeing the pink muscle, Hannibal could not contain himself any longer. A hand still holding Will’s chin, Hannibal leaned down and caught Will’s tongue in his mouth and sucked.

Will gasped softly beneath him and Hannibal adjusted his position to be able to lick further into Will’s mouth. The smaller man moaned as Hannibal invaded his space, crouching over him, an arm on either side. Will’s hands were suddenly on Hannibal’s shoulders, roughly pushing him away, yet grasping at the fabric of his shirt all the same.

“Han-Hannibal? What is...what happened? Where am I?”

Hannibal smiled at the fear visibly lighting the man’s eyes. He hadn’t felt this confused in a while, and Hannibal could tell that much. Fear added an almost musky undertone to his scent, a desperate and sharp smell, almost as cloying as the blood that still hung in the air.

Hannibal dipped his head down to rest his forehead against Will’s before giving him any answers. “Look around, Will. Look at what you’ve done. I have never seen such beauty.”

Hannibal felt Will tense beneath him and bared down even harder. “I-I did...this?”

His words were punctuated with gasps that Hannibal wanted nothing more than to taste. “Of course you did. You did everything so well. I knew you would be a natural. You were so nervous.”

“ _No._ ” Will’s voice sounded strong, but Hannibal could feel it quavering in his chest.

“Yes, beloved. This is all your doing. I only had to show you how. I knew you would turn from the light eventually.” Hannibal bent down to kiss Will once more, but instead of his lips flowering open like the last time, they clamped shut. Hannibal licked against the chapped mouth, lapping up the blood stuck to the skin, forcing his tongue against Will’s teeth. Will protested even stronger, clenching his jaw, tensing pursed lips to a point it had to almost be painful. The resistance exciting something in Hannibal, lit him on fire from the inside out, sent something buzzing beneath his skin that he could not let go ignored. Making a split second decision, he bit down on Will’s closed lips with sharpened teeth, just to see what would happen.

Will’s mouth opened with little resistance, breath flowing into Hannibal’s mouth in a gasp. Will’s hands fisted in Hannibal’s shirt, a few soft pushes and punches trying to keep Hannibal at bay. Blood dripped from between their lips and Hannibal ceased exploring the roof of Will’s mouth to lick it up and curl his tongue around the fluid to press it back into Will’s mouth, to paint his pearly white teeth with it.

Hanging back for breath for one moment, long and strong legs still caging Will in, he admired the way Will’s mouth looked painted red like a whore. In this moment, Will would be nothing but his harlot. Hannibal would have it no other way. Will squirmed, fought, shifted; but got nowhere. Still pinned beneath Hannibal, he mumbled something that sounded like _kiss me_ when it reached Hannibal’s ears.

“Kiss you again, dear boy? You hardly need to ask.”

Hannibal bent his neck and encased Will yet again, dipping his tongue into the sweet and metallic heat of Will’s mouth. He kissed with force, a hand still resting against Will’s neck, pinning his back to the wall, preventing him from moving or even thinking of getting away. Will did not kiss back of his own accord, but that was no matter, Hannibal merely chased his tongue around as Will tried to avoid contact. Hannibal parted from Will as he pushed away, trying this time to use his feet as well. Will met his eyes for a moment, and the clarity behind the storm in them was startling.

“No. I said kill me.”

Hannibal’s hand tightened around Will’s throat, eliciting a choked cry from him. “Why would I do that, my love?”

Hannibal spoke these words against Will’s neck, the heat from his voice moistening the drying blood cracking along his neck. Will fisted his hands in Hannibal’s hair, whimpering and struggling.

“Hannibal, no, no. _Please, no_.”

“You ask so nicely, Will. But you had your fun, now you must let me have mine.”

Will whimpered and Hannibal could practically hear the fear singing through his veins. He wanted to puncture the skin of Will’s neck so he could taste the sweetness of it in his blood. But no, no, not yet.

“I don’t have to do this, please, you can’t do this.”

Hannibal paused in laying kisses to Will’s neck and looked up at him. He cocked his head slightly, a smile ghosting against his reddened lips. “I would like to see you try to stop me.”

Hannibal bent again and Will clawed down Hannibal’s back; punching, kicking, tugging and pulling on every piece of Hannibal he could get a hold of. Little did he know that Hannibal enjoyed the fight. It made the conquest that much more satisfying. Hannibal bit down on the soft skin of Will’s neck in time with a particularly rough jab to the ribs. Will gasped again and moaned, the sounds laced with pain. “Please, stop-!”

“Remarkable boy.” Hannibal murmured against the blood now welling up on Will’s skin, watching it drip and weep into the jumping hollow of his throat. He began there, and licked up the trail to the wound and sucked again, drawing a mouthful of blood and holding it between his teeth. He reached forward to hold Will’s head back, stretching his neck and making the back of his skull connect roughly with the wall behind him, he kissed into Will’s mouth once more. He siphoned the blood from his own lips into Will’s, a bird giving sustenance to its young.

“Hannibal, please-” Will sobbed, begging, making himself all the more desirable still to Hannibal. Hannibal snaked a hand down, dragging it across Will’s torso, spending time clawing on each one of his ribs, setting his grip between Will’s thighs. The air was permeated with a desperate moan from Will. “ _-no!_ ”

Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment, committing this image of Will to memory. The man looked completely debauched, smudged in red, throat exposed, mouth open and brow knitted. Hannibal opened his eyes when a hand wrapped around his wrist, the grip tight but unable to tear Hannibal’s hand away. Hannibal hummed, deftly undoing Will’s pants with one hand. “I do admire your courage.”

Will squirmed, struggles beginning anew when Hannibal’s hand cupped against his cock lightly. Hannibal sampled the new scent in the air as though he were tasting a fine vintage of wine for the first time. Arousal pooled, hot and heavy in Hannibal’s stomach and limbs as he began stroking. Will’s cries, choked out sobs, only made him move his hands with more fervor, more enthusiasm. Will began to respond despite himself, quicker than Hannibal had expected him to, sobbing even harder at his body’s betrayal.

“I knew you wanted this, dear boy. We cannot hide from our desires.”

Will sobbed openly as Hannibal ran his thumb over his slit, rubbing the bead of precum over his shaft, making the friction easier to create.

“Please, please. Hannibal!” Will whimpered, trying to stifle his cries with his hand, only bringing more red to smudge against his lips and cheeks. “I trusted you.”

“And have I betrayed that trust?” Hannibal asked smoothly as he bent at the waist and leaned forward entirely, pressing a red-stained kiss to the head of Will’s cock, leaving a bright ring of blood on the tip.

“Hannibal-” Will’s voice came thready, needy, hateful and disgusted. He sounded like he was reaching out for the last shreds of the bond he had believed he and Hannibal had and finding nothing but ash that crumbled beneath his touch. “ _p-please_.”

“Please what, Will? I’m not going to stop. I know neither of us want that.”

“Please...just kill me. Get it over with. Kill me.”

Again, Hannibal hummed, considering Will’s words. It was a tantalizing thought, killing Will. Listening to all the intimate sounds he would make, sounds far more intimate than any he could make during sex. Hannibal’s arousal grew just thinking of the way that the light would leave Will’s eyes in the last second, if Will would change his mind when it was too late and beg for his life back. If he would beg to take everything back, apologize and start over when he was already lightheaded and floating from losing too much blood. Hannibal would be the last thing Will saw, the very last thing he touched, the image seared into the irises of his eyes for all eternity. But in the end, Hannibal would always want to give Will exactly as he desired.

“I will give you what you want, but first I am going to take what I want.”

Hannibal watched the rapid rise and fall of Will’s chest and found himself wondering if Will was entirely aware of his surroundings yet. There was a small chance that Will still thought he was dreaming, hallucinating, that he would wake any moment and have to deal with the aftershocks of such a horrendous nightmare. Hannibal had to find a way to shock him back into reality, for him to realize all of the terribly wonderful things he had done that evening -- and he knew exactly how to do so.

“Please, Hannibal, don’t do this. Don’t - do this to me.”

“Always such a selfish boy. Have you never taken a moment to think about what anyone else might want?” Hannibal asked, his mouth twisting up in a smirk before leaning off of Will and sliding his pants down his hips while keeping one hand firmly around Will. Will’s hand still clung to Hannibal’s wrist, holding tighter and tighter still, but doing nothing to stop the inevitable.

Sliding back onto Will’s lap as the blood from the bodies began to run and pool and puddle beneath them, Hannibal once again dragged his hands through the gore. dragging red handprints through the mess and up his own legs and settling on Will’s knees. Slowly, he brought one hand up to his mouth and spat onto it, collecting it in his palm, before holding it up to Will’s mouth as well.

“Spit.” He instructed. Will clamped his mouth shut once more. Hannibal reached down and grasped his cock with a grip like iron, causing Will to cry out. “Do not make me ask again. Spit.”

With lips that trembled, Will gathered all the saliva he could and spat it into Hannibal’s open and waiting palm. Hannibal patted Will on the side of his head, threading his red hands through his wilting curls and thanked him softly for complying. “This will make it easier for both of us, my dear boy.”

Will shivered openly, pleas and whimpers still leaving his lips as Hannibal wrapped his slicked up hand over his cock from base to tip. With on hand around throat and his feet braced against each of Will’s hips like wrought iron bars, he used his other hand to guide Will between his thighs and lined the head of his cock with his entrance. Pressing harder against Will’s throat with every whimper and protests from the man, he impaled himself on Will’s unwillingly hard cock.

The stretch was painful, but not entirely unpleasant. Not for Hannibal, anyhow. He basked in the slight twinge and tears he felt without having proper lubrication at his disposal. His skin crackled and erupted in fire as he watched the expressions of pain and hopelessness cross Will’s face

“You’ve done so well. You’ve done exactly all you needed to. You killed so perfectly.” Hannibal sunk down further onto Will, thigh muscles tensing and clenching with each word of praise. Stilling for a moment to allow his body to get used to the new sensations, Hannibal caressed Will’s face, leaving red scattered across his chin and throat. Will’s skin was becoming a beautiful tapestry, saturated with Hannibal’s marks and handiwork, the paint drying and cracking into his skin. Slowly, he began to cant his hips up and down, forcing Will’s length to brush against his prostate. Seeing stars, it was then that Will began to scream.

He begged Hannibal to kill him, pleaded with him to allow this all to end. And, ever the gentleman, Hannibal would give him exactly as he desired - if Will could prove to be patient enough to get what he wanted. Hannibal could feel his own precum straining and dripping from his erection, and he longed to touch himself, but he could not bare for this to be done already. Will’s screams were a symphony, perfectly harmonized and in time with his thrusts. He felt just as good inside him as Hannibal had always thought he would.

“Stop, Hannibal, this - you’re hurting me. Please.” His pleas grew more and more dejected, less hopeful with each word. It seemed that he knew they would prove fruitless, but he could not stop the effort anyway.

“Oh, sweet Will.” Hannibal allowed himself to indulge in a moan and scanned the room with his eyes, taking in the wrecking and wanting nothing more than to continue scooping up the blood with his hands and pouring over both himself and the boy writhing beneath him, coating them in a perfect shade of red, a coat of viscera that would shroud them and carry them both into the next world after this one. Shifting the angle of his hips, but still leaving Will buried to the hilt, Hannibal leaned forward to kiss Will’s shaking mouth one final time. As he leaned, he reached blindly beside him and closed his fist around a long and thin rib bone that had been discarded by Will earlier in the night. With a tender twist of his tongue and bump of their noses that would have been comforting under any other circumstances. Hannibal leaned back and thrust into Will with abandon, rough enough to cause Will’s head to jar against the wall that was holding up most of his weight so hard that his eyes closed of their own accord.

Hannibal was not ready for Will’s eyes to stay shut yet and ordered him to open them back up. The other man did as he was told, and Hannibal focused on the bright fear that was still present in his gaze. Without much pretense or warning, Hannibal pressed the disconnected bone to Will’s lips, wedging it between his teeth - prying, cracking, chipping - forcing his jaw open - cutting, tearing, destroying. Will’s surprised shout only opened up his throat more and allowed Hannibal to force the rib into the back of his mouth and down. He thrust it into the back of his throat in time with his hips and he could feel Will’s stomach tensing beneath him. Despite all of this - or perhaps because of? - Will was close and Hannibal could feel the tension building. Will choked around the bone and Hannibal loved the sound of his shouts being replaced by gags and retches.

This primal. This was ugly. This was Hannibal Lecter at his innermost, darkest and hidden.

This was art. This was beauty.

This was Will Graham struggling to breathe beneath him.

This was reverent.

“I’m giving you want you want now, dear Will.” Hannibal spoke as he felt Will begin to spill inside him without much warning, with little fanfare from the orchestra. Driving the splintered bone even further down his throat, scratching his larynx, piercing his tonsils and destroying his voice box entirely, blood beginning to drip from the creases of Will’s mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head, Hannibal stretched a large hand around his throat. He applied pressure, subtly and growing harder, crushing his windpipe, feeling both Will’s hyoid bone and the rib wedged in the soft cavity snap and splinter together, he heard Will take his last gasping wheeze of a breath.

Breathing in through his nose, Hannibal rode Will’s cock until it grew completely flaccid inside him, relishing the feeling of Will’s cum lubricating his insides. Carefully and gingerly, he removed Will’s cock from within him and leaned forward on his knees once more to kiss Will a final time, even around the broken rib protruding obscenely from his now swollen and blue lips. Will’s eyes remained open, glassy like the calm surface of a lake. Hannibal stared into them for a moment, wanting to imprint his visage on them for the rest of Will’s eternity.

Slowly, but not terribly gently, he rose from Will’s lap and turned the man over onto his back. Hands shaking in trepidation, he yanked Will’s pants down past his knees and settled over the top of him. Still achingly hard, Hannibal reached down and cupped his hands in the ever spreading pool of blood surrounding him. He knelt in it, not caring about the knees of his suit getting soaked. This was worth it. He carefully and meticulously coated his length in the blood, mixing it with the precum that still leaked steadily from the tip of his own cock. Without any preparation, without much thought, he spread Will’s legs and drove himself into the heat that had not yet gone out of him. Will was so tight, so still, and yet so receptive. He stretched easily, though Hannibal could feel some of the skin tearing. The blood began to coagulate quickly, but he relished the stick and sting, the stuttering thrusts caused his cock to jerk and jump so much he could hardly feel the pain. Will’s face dragged in the pool, his nose covered in stale blood so much that if he had not already stopped breathing, he would have surely drown in the sticky red substance.

It did not take Hannibal long to reach release, and he did so with a long groan that was more a beastly growl than anything else. He felt more like an animal in this moment than he ever had before, with blood in his hair and all over his face, staking claim to what was his, gaining conquest over a fresh kill. It was freeing, and the thought alone nearly made him come again. Completely spent inside of Will, he languidly pumped forward a few more times, riding out his sensitivity and dragging his hands down Will’s back, leaving handprints along the way. Soon, he stood, the contentedness of release flowing through him like small pricks of electric shocks.

Doing up his fly, Hannibal gazed appreciatively at the scenery before him. Will’s lifeless body between the other two, rapidly cooling but filled to the brim with the only thing that could truly mark him as Hannibal’s. And Hannibal found he did not care who found this scene, who tested it for the DNA that was undoubtedly there, he would be far gone by the time anyone realized just what he had done. With a smug smile, he knelt down beside Will one last time. With his scalpel, he traced one clean cut straight line down his chest and abdomen. He cracked each of Will’s small ribs and had the insatiable urge to wrap them around himself and crawl inside. Instead, he reached in and cut Will’s still heart from the places it was attached.

“I think I’ll eat your heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am really very sorry.


End file.
